\JCHARD  iiENR 


LI  BR  ARY 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

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AN    ADDRESS 


COMMEMORATIVE  OF 


Richard  Henry  Mather, 


Professor  of  Greek  in  Amherst  College. 


Delivered  Before  the  Faculty,  Students,  and 
Friends  of  the  College, 


June  i^th,  1890, 


BY    PROFESSOR    HENRY    ALLYN    FRINK. 


^^   Of  THU 


TJHIVBRSITTj 

AMHERST  MASS,  1890. 


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GRirriTH,  AXTBLL  &   CaDT   CoMTANT,   I'niKTERS 

HoLYOKB,  Mass. 


THE  ALUMNI  AND  FRIENDS  OF  AMHERST  COLLEGE 


ARE  PROVIDED  WITH  THIS  ADDRESS  BY 


THE  HON.  WILLIAM  WHITING,  A.  M., 


A  LONG-TIME  FRIEND  OF  PROFESSOR  MATHER. 


[tjiivirsitt; 


LIFE  many-sided,  rich  in  endowment,  and  of 
large  usefulness  has  gone  from  us.  De- 
voted to  Amherst  College  with  rare  con- 
secration, for  more  than  thirty  years,  no  one 
voice  can  tell  of  the  reach  of  its  influence.  So  in 
what  will  be  heard  to-day,  many  voices  will 
mingle.  Would  that  their  words  could  be  repeat- 
ed in  full.  But  since  this  cannot  be,  the  words 
that  are  spoken  will  aim  to  echo  the  spirit  of 
the  many  who  have  gratefully  testified  of  Pro- 
fessor Mather's  earnest  life  and  work. 

Our  first  thought  of  Professor  Mather  is  that 
his  was  a  singularly  favored  life.  Its  end  was 
pathetic,  almost  tragic.  But  until  its  closing- 
months,  a  kind  fortune,  as  we  ordinarily  count 
fortune,  waited  upon  it  generously  and  con- 
stantly. This  fortune  began  with  an  honored 
lineage.  Piety,  patriotism,  learning,  power  of 
mind  and  gift  of  leadership,  as  marked  as  this 
country  has  known,  distinguish  his  ancestry. 

His  name  he  traced  to  Richard  Mather  of 
Lancashire,    England,    who    in     1635    came   to 


America,  and  settled  as  a  preacher  at  Dor- 
chester, Mass.  From  his  second  son  Timothy, 
Professor  Mather  was  descended.  This  Timothy 
was  the  brother  of  Increase  Mather,  sixth  presi- 
dent of  Harvard  College,  whose  degree  of  Doctor 
of  Divinity  was  the  first  granted  in  this  country; 
and  the  uncle  of  Cotton  Mather,  even  more 
illustrious  than  his  father,  Increase,  as  author,  pat- 
riot, and  divine.  Richard,  a  son  of  Timothy,  settled 
at  Lyme,  Connecticut;  and  Henry,  his  descendant 
of  the  fourth  oreneration,  was  father  of  Professor 
Mather.  On  the  maternal  side  a  not  distant 
ancestor  was  Jonathan  Edwards,  the  theologian 
and  metaphysician, — "One  of  the  three  original 
minds  that  America  has  produced."  Through  his 
mother's  father,  he  was  also  descended  from  the 
Rev.  John  Whiting,  a  colleague  of  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Stone  an  early  pastor  of  the  F'irst  Church  in 
Hartford,  Connecticut;  and  from  Captain  John 
Mason,  the  successful  commander  in  the  Pequot 
War,  major  of  the  colonial  forces  for  many  years, 
and  from  1660  to  1670  Deputy  Governor  of  Con- 
necticut. 

When  a  young  man  the  father  of  Professor 
Mather,  following  an  elder  brother,  Richard,  emi- 
grated, as  it  would  then  be  said,  from  Lyme, 
Connecticut,  to  Binghamton,  New  York.  Here, 
later,  Henry  Mather  married  Frances  Whiting,  a 


7 
great-granddaughter  of  Jonathan  Edwards;    and 
here,  February  12,  1834,  was  born  Richard  Henry 
Mather. 

If  New  England  was  not  his  birth-place,  its 
spirit  was  embodied  in  the  home  of  his  boyhood. 
To  know  what  was  the  influence  of  that  home 
upon  the  child  is  to  recall  what  was  most  enno- 
bling in  the  man.  At  fourteen  Richard  Mather 
came  to  Amherst  to  be  under  the  intellectual 
guidance  of  his  uncle,  Professor  William  S.  Tyler. 
For  this  guardian  of  his  youth  and  companion  of 
his  early  and  later  manhood.  Professor  Mather 
had,  as  his  mother  writes,  "the  admiration  of  a 
pupil  combined  with  the  love  of  a  son  and  the 
sympathy  of  a  life-long  friend. 

A  little  later,  he  was  for  a  term  at  the  Hopkins 
Academy,  Hadley,  Mass.,  then  having  for  its 
Principal  the  present  Lecturer  on  Natural  Philos- 
ophy in  Amherst  College,  Dr.  Marshall  Henshaw. 
From  here,  to  complete  his  preparation  for  col- 
lege, he  went  to  VVilliston  Seminary,  East- 
hampton.  "  He  was  then,"  as  a  classmate, 
President  Northrup  of  the  University  of  Minne- 
sota, tells  us,  "what  he  has  always  been,  a  genial, 
hearty,  and  friendly  man;  an  earnest  and  excel- 
lent scholar;  an  eloquent  speaker."  Especially 
was  President  Northrup  impressed  with  his  class- 
mate's proiiciency  in  Greek,  "as  he  had  then  the 


8 

habit  of  leaving  his  room  and  coming  out  into  the 
hall  of  the  dormitory,  and  there  rolling  off  the 
smooth-flowing  lines  of  Homer  with  almost  light- 
ning rapidity.  I  have  since  heard  him  preach  in 
English,  and  very  few  men  could  surpass  him  in 
preaching;  but  no  English  preaching  could  ever 
impress  me  as  did  his  appropriation, — I  may  call 
it,  rather  than  mastery,  of  the  Greek  tongue." 
To  President  Northrup's  early  impressions  of  this 
student  of  Greek  is  to  be  added  Professor  Tyler  s 
statement,  "that  in  all  the  classes  that  he  has 
taught,  Professor  Mather  had  no  equal  in  facility 
and  felicity  of  translation."  Nor  can  the  silence 
of  his  "silver  tongue"  to-day  make  us  forget 
the  charm  and  power  with  which  he  was  wont  to 
reproduce  the  stately  march  and  magnificent 
sweep  and  swell  of  Greek  verse,  in  his  public  and 
private  readings  from  the  tragic  poets. 

Graduated  from  Williston  Seminary  in  1852 
with  the  honor  of  Salutatory  oration,  he  entered 
Amherst  College  with  the  class  of  1856.  In  this 
class  he  was  prominent  as  a  scholar  and  writer; 
and  Sophomore  year,  as  a  Kellogg  Prize  speaker. 
Junior  year  he  left  the  class  of  1856  for  foreign 
travel.  With  Professor  Tyler,  Mr.  Edward  A. 
Strong,  now  of  the  Board  of  Trustees  of  Amherst 
College,  and  Mr.  George  Washburn,  for  many 
years  President  of  Robert  College,  Constantino- 


9 
pie,  he  went  over  the  usual  route  of  the  tourist 
in  Europe,  with  a  visit  to  Egypt,  Palestine,  Tur- 
key, and  Greece.  A  part  of  the  time  the  Rev. 
Samuel  Fiske,  then  known  as  "Dunn  Browne," 
was  a  companion.  In  Mr.  Fiske's  sketches  of 
his  travels,  entitled  ''Dunn  Browne  Abroad,"  we 
catch  now  and  then  a  characteristic  glimpse  of 
Professor  Mather  as  a  youthful  traveller.  The 
glimpse  is  always  of  one  brightening  the  way, 
and  making  hard  places  seem  easy  and  smooth. 
So  it  was  through  the  whole  journey  of  life.  To  all 
whom  he  met  and  to  all  with  whom  he  lived  and 
labored,  he  was  as  the  light  that  gladdens,  and  as  a 
breeze  that  invigorates. 

His  early  visit  to  Greece  was  an  epoch  in  his 
life.  His  impressionable,  responsive  nature  was 
here  touched  with  a  power  as  lasting  as,  at  the 
time,  irresistible.  However  unconscious  the  pur- 
pose, sympathies  were  quickened  that  had  for 
their  blossom  and  fruit  the  giving  of  all  his  future 
years  to  the  study  of  Greek  life,  art,  and  litera- 
ture. In  this  opportunity  for  an  enthusiastic 
devotion  to  an  early  inspiration,  we  see  more 
than  a  favored  life.  It  is  something  that  ap- 
proaches an  ideal  life.  It  is  the  "vision  splen- 
did" of  the  youth,  not  fading,  as  is  so  often  the 
sad  experience,  "into  the  light  of  common  day;" 
but  in  all  the  years  that  follow,  steadily  rounding 


lO 

into  larger,  finer  proportions,  and  gaining  a 
richer  beauty  and  glory. 

On  his  return  to  Amherst,  he  joined  the  class 
of  1857,  and  was  graduated  with  its  highest  honor. 
The  subject  of  his  oration  was  the  keynote  of 
the  theme  about  which  he  was  to  write  and  speak 
for  a  lifetime,  "Athenian  Culture."  His  previous 
record  as  a  scholar,  his  brilliant  powers,  and  his 
year  of  travel  with  its  advantages,  made  this 
honor  probable  from  the  first.  To  the  members 
of  the  class  with  the  same  ambition,  and  their 
friends,  his  entering  the  lists  was  naturally  a  dis- 
appointment. How  he  bore  himself  in  this 
ordeal  we  learn  from  a  classmate,  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Frisbie  of  Des  Moines,  Iowa.  *'As  I  recall  those 
days,  I  am  impressed  by  the  genuineness  of  the 
manhood  he  then  showed.  He  did  not  allow  it 
to  be  thought  that  he  had  taken  a  place  with  us 
that  he  might  get  the  advantage  of  any  one  of 
us.  He  did  not  keep  himself  apart.  He  did  not 
act  as  though  his  was  a  position  to  be  defended. 
He  was  at  once  a  member  of  the  class  in  frank, 
friendly  heartiness.  It  was  his  class  from  the 
day  that  he  entered  it.  His  course  was  such  as 
to  allay  the  first  sense  of  disturbance,  and  to  make 
for  himself  a  sure  and  warm  place  in  the  hearts  of 
his  classmates." 

The  year  after  graduation  found  him  a  teacher 


II 

at  Wi] listen  Seminary  with  an  experience  brightly 
prophesying  his  future  success.  He  was -always 
interested  in  Williston  Seminary,  and  an  election 
to  its  Board,  of  Trustees  in  1880  was  very  grate- 
ful to  him.  To  the  earnest  sense  of  duty  that 
attended  him  in  every  place  of  responsibility,  he 
added  here  the  warm  love  of  a  son. 

Another  year  abroad,  given  mainly  to  the  study 
of  Philology  at  Berlin,  and  he  returned  to  make 
Amherst,  where  he  had  passed  so  much  of  his 
youth,  his  home  for  life.^  And  how  he  loved 
Amherst.  Her  beauty  was  his  delight  and  praise. 
With  each  returning  year  he  would  say,  **that  he 
felt  like  thanking  God  that  he  was  permitted  to 
see  the  spring  come  again  in  Amherst, — it  was 
so  beautiful."  And  if  this  joy  in  the  beautiful 
was  his  birthright,  was  not  his  a  favored 
life  in  having  two  such  homes  as  Amherst 
and  Binghamton  to  give  his  aesthetic  sense  the 
kindest  and  most  generous  culture  ?  The  hills 
that  surround  his  birthplace  except  where  the 
Chenango  and  Susquehanna  come  and  go,  if  not 

*  Before  going  abroad  Professor  Mather  married,  May  26,  I858, 
Lizzie,  daughter  of  Daniel  Carmichael  of  Geneva,  N.  Y.  The  children 
of  this  marriage  are  Alice,  the  wife  of  Professor  Williston  Walker, 
Ph.  D.,  of  Hartford  Theological  Seminary ;  Professor  William  T. 
Mather  of  Williston  Seminary,  and  Edward  Mather  of  Boston.  Mrs. 
Lizzie  Mather  died  October,  1877.  March  31,  1881,  Professor  Mather 
married  Ellen  A.,  daughter  of  Samuel  H.  Mather,  LL.  D.,  of  Cleve- 
land, O.     Mrs.  Mather  survives  him,  also  a  young  daughter,  Eleanor. 


12 

SO  famous  as  those  upon  which  we  look,  are  yet 
in  their  way  hardly  less  beautiful.  Sunsets  no 
less  brilliant  than  ours  enrich  its  sky;  and  upon 
its  hills  at  the  East  often  rests  the  same  purple 
light  that  at  times  tints  the  Pelham  range.  With 
the  two  rivers  meeting  in  its  centre,  its  beauty,  if 
not  so  cultivated  and  suggesting  so  much  an 
English  landscape  as  the  scene  before  us,  is 
more  varied  and  picturesque.  But  Professor 
Mather  in  his  comparison  always  gave  the  crown 
to  Amherst.  Nor  was  this  whole  region  without 
a  large  measure  of  his  admiration  and  love.  In 
his  rare  fund  of  delightful  sayings,  he  had  none 
that  he  seemed  to  enjoy  repeating  more  than  the 
remark  of  a  kind  lady  who,  having  early  recol- 
lections of  this  part  of  New  England,  said  to  him 
when  a  boy  leaving  Binghamton  for  Amherst : 
"Give  my  love  to  the  Connecticut  Valley,  all  the 
way  up." 

Here  in  Amherst  College,  he  began  in  1859 
the  work  that  he  laid  down  only  with  his  life.  Of 
his  thirty-one  years  as  a  teacher  of  Greek,  three 
were  as  instructor,  six  as  adjunct  professor,  and 
twenty- two  as  professor.  He  was  also  an  en- 
thusiastic and  successful  teacher  of  German  from 
1864  to  1879,  when  he  opened  a  new  and  most 
valuable  field  of  culture  at  Amherst  College 
as  ''Lecturer  upon  Sculpture." 


13 

For  a  few  months  in  1862  he  pursued  studies 
at  Andover,  Mass.,  especially  theology  with  Pro- 
fessor Park.  In  the  following  year  he  was 
licensed  to  preach;  and  from  that  time  until 
his  last  sermon  in  the  Eliot  church  at  Newton,  a 
year  ago  next  September,  he  was  the  larger  part 
of  the  year  supplying  churches  in  New  England 
and  New  York.  In  preaching  not  only  was  his 
mind  stimulated  and  broadened,  his  social  nature 
given  friendly  culture,  and  his  religious  spirit 
a  larger  activity ;  but  his  gifts  as  an  orator  were 
put  to  their  highest  use.  Because  of  the  power 
of  these  gifts,  the  wish  has  often  been  expressed 
that  he  might  have  given  himself  wholly  to  the 
ministry.  The  invitations  to  do  so  were  alluring. 
Some  of  these  calls  received  respectful  consider- 
ation ;  but  his  heart  was  here  in  the  college,  and 
here  he  remained.  In  1879  Bowdoin  College 
conferred  upon  him  the  degree  of  Doctor  of 
Divinity.  But  admired  as  he  never  failed  to  be 
in  the  pulpit,  he  was  always  known  by  the  title 
which  indicated  his  life  work — Professor  Mather. 
So  mentioned  and  remembered,  the  college 
shared  in  the  impression  always  pleasant  and 
often  marked  that  he  left  with  his  congrega- 
tion. 

But  Professor  Mather's  gifts  were  not  simply 
those  of  the  scholar  and  public  speaker.      Often 


14 
were  his  friends  made  to  forget  the  successful 
teacher  and  preacher  in  admiration  of  the  man 
of  affairs.  This  sense  of  practical  power  assert- 
ed itself  soon  after  graduation.  But  with  a 
momentary  inclination  toward  business  life 
ended  all  swerving  from  the  purpose  to  be  a 
teacher  of  Greek.  With  every  other  gift,  he 
placed  his  executive  force  and  skill  at  the  dis- 
posal of  the  college.  Many  and  valuable  were 
his  services,  as  in  the  remodelling  of  the  library 
building,  the  endowment  of  scholarships,  and  in 
meeting  extra  expenses  of  his  department.  How 
helpful  was  his  executive  power  when  turned  in 
a  single  direction,  need  not  be  told  to  one 
familiar  with  the  collection  in  yonder  Art  Gallery, 
which,  hereafter,  whatever  may  be  the  official 
title,  will  always  and  justly  be  known  as  The 
Mather  Collection. 

It  was  with  the  plan  of  this  Art  Gallery  be- 
fore him  that  in  1873  he  again  went  abroad. 
How  vividly  as  we  have  known  him  in  other 
undertakings,  is  he  portrayed  in  the  following 
description  by  a  fellow  traveller*  of  that  summer! 
**  Every  new  day  and  every  new  city  suggested 
the  same  question, — what  can  be  done  now  and 
here  for  the  Art  Gallery?  It  was  a  rare  day  that 
something  was  not  accomplished ;  and  only  those 

*  The  Rev.  Robert  M.  Woods,  Hatfield,  Mass. 


15 

who  know  what  Professor  Mather's  enthusiasm 
and  executive  abiHty  were,  can  understand  how 
rapidly  and  smoothly  that  Art  Gallery  which  was 
in  Professor  Mather's  mind  took  on  reality."  A 
few  years  ago  the  collection  of  Casts  in  this  Gal- 
lery was,  apart  from  the  one  in  Boston,  the  finest 
in  the  country.  If  to-day  it  is  also  more  than 
equalled  by  the  one  in  New  York  and  the  one  at 
Smith  College,  the  reason  is  found  in  lack  of 
space  in  Williston  Hall  for  a  larger  collection. 
And  when  grateful  hearts  and  hands  shall  honor 
the  memory  of  Professor  Mather's  work  for  the 
College,  what  more  fitting  form  can  the  monu- 
ment assume  than  a  building  and  a  fund  that  shall 
keep  Amherst's  Art  Collection  in  the  rank  where 
he  first  placed  it  and  held  it  for  so  many 
years  ? 

After  twenty-eight  years  of  continuous  service, 
came  his  first  long  vacation  in  the  form  of  a  year's 
absence  from  college  duties.  Mrs.  Mather  ac- 
companying him,  he  repeated  the  tour  of  his 
student  days  with  the  exception  of  Egypt  and 
Palestine  and  the  addition  of  Holland  and  Sicily. 
But  the  main  purpose  of  this  vacation  was  one 
of  study  and  investigation  in  Greece.  Resid- 
ing here  several  months,  he  gathered  the  mate- 
rial not  only  for  extending  former  courses  and 
the*  preparation  of  a  new  course  in  Greek  Art; 


i6 

but  for  making  even  more  richly  stimulating 
and  fruitful  all  the  work  of  the  department. 

Again  at  his  post  in  September,  1888,  his 
labors  were  carried  on  for  more  than  a  year 
with  an  ardor  and  energy  full  of  splendid  promise 
for  what  he  hoped  to  be  a  new  era  in  his  teach- 
ing. But  sadly  familiar  is  all  that  follows :  the 
thwarting  of  that  promise  by  the  hand  of  dis- 
ease ;  the  perilous  and  painful  operation ;  the 
brave  spirit  that  met  it  and  from  it  apparently 
rallied ;  the  relapse ;  and  the  weary  months  of 
illness  in  which  he  fought  his  disease  with  a 
courage  that,  as  a  classmate  who  had  himself 
stood  in  battle,  writes,  "was  equal  to  a  Gettys- 
burg or  a  Wilderness."  As  the  struggle  contin- 
ued through  the  long  winter,  the  wish  grew 
with  the  days  to  live  to  look  upon  another  of 
Amherst's  beautiful  springs,  and  to  see  Presi- 
dent Seelye  again.  But  the  beauty  of  the  spring 
tarried  longer  in  its  coming  than  he  in  his  going; 
and  the  night  that  President  Seelye  came,  he 
went. 

In  several  of  the  letters  received  since  he 
went  from  us  we  read :  "I  cannot  think  of  Pro- 
fessor Mather  as  dead,  nor  of  Amherst  College 
without  him."  Nor  need  we  so  think.  That 
in  Professor  Mather  which  we  most  loved  is  not 
dead,  nor  can  it   die.     Neither  can    he  be   sep- 


17 
arated  from  the  college.     He  made  his  life  one 
with  her   life;    and  in   the    constant    power   and 
influence   of  this    Christian    College  he  has   an 
earthly  immortality. 


II 


S  a  teacher  of  Greek,  Professor  Mather  be- 
lieved with  Matthew  Arnold  that  *'  the  ao- 
rist  was  made  for  man,  not  man  for  the 
aorist."  No  mere  word  scholar,  he  observed  the 
distinction  between  the  literature  of  knowledge 
and  the  literature  of  power,  pointed  out  by  De 
Quincey  who  says  :  ''All  the  steps  of  knowledge, 
from  first  to  last,  carry  you  further  on  the  same 
plane,  but  could  never  raise  you  one  foot  above 
your  ancient  level  of  earth ;  whereas,  the  v^xy  first 
step  in  power  is  a  flight — is  an  ascending  move- 
ment into  another  element."  And  so  to  come 
into  Professor  Mather's  class  was  an  intellectual 
awakening.  Imbued  with  the  spirit  of  the 
authors  taught,  he  entered  into  the  life  of  the 
tragedy,  the  poem,  the  oration,  and  revealed 
the  heart  and  soul  of  Greek  literature.  Not 
that  he  failed  to  impart  knowledge,  and  knowl- 
edge of  the  most  scholarly  type  ;  but  the  spe- 
cial aim  of  his  teaching  was,  as  De  Quincey 
would  say,  power.     Work,  hard  work  and  much 


t9 

of  it,  was  required  of  the  student.  But  never 
was  the  work  put  upon  that  low  level  of  instruc- 
tion which  seeks  to  give  value  to  learning  by 
making  it  unnecessarily  difficult  and  distasteful. 
He  so  invested  the  subject  with  the  charm  of 
his  literary  and  aesthetic  spirit  as  to  make  'the 
hard  work  to  all  appreciative  minds,  a  delight. 
Inspiring  the  student  with  his  own  enthusiasm, 
the  task  became  as  the  joyful  load  which  the 
hunter  brings  back  from  the  successful  chase. 
Upon  the  class  of  the  term  he  concentrated 
his  thought  and  effort.  If  for  the  time  he 
seemed  to  make  it  his  college  world,  it  was  for 
the  advantage  of  the  class ;  and  all  in  turn 
shared  the  same  devotion.  He  measured  with 
a  skill  and  accuracy  almost  intuitive  the  capac- 
ity and  aim  of  every  member  of  the  class.  He 
was  swift  to  detect  indifference  and  indolence. 
His  favorite  theme,  as  a  preacher,  was  forma- 
tion of  character.  No  less  was  this  his  text  as 
a  teacher.  To  be  idle  or  careless  meant  more 
than  a  temporary  failure  in  Greek.  It  was  leav- 
ing as  he  thought,  a  weak  place  at  the  founda- 
tions of  manhood.  No  student  of  his  would 
he  permit  to  do  this  without  his  word  of 
remonstrance.  True,  that  word  perhaps  at  times 
was  sharper  and  stronger  than  the  student  may 
have  thought  his  negligence  deserved.     Yet   it 


20 


needed  only  the  first  indication  of  better  things,  to 
gain  even  more  largely  his  instructor's  approval 
and  encouragement. 

The  teacher's  one  immediate  reward  is  the  stu- 
dent's good  work.  No  man  ever  rejoiced  more 
than  Professor  Mather  in  this  reward.  A  frequent 
remark  when  speaking  of  some  of  his  best  classes 
was :  "  I  would  willingly  teach  a  class  like  that, 
year  in  and  year  out,  for  no  other  compensation 
than  the  pleasure  of  it."  Tired  with  other  work 
he  would  say :  ''  I  am  going  to  hear  such  a 
class  and  get  rested."  And  if  the  recitation 
proved  as  he  anticipated,  he  would  return 
from  it  bright  and  fresh  as  from  a  ride  in  the 
country. 

At  the  last  meeting  of  the  New  England  As- 
sociation of  Colleges  and  Preparator)^  Schools,  he 
was  asked  to  take  part  in  a  discussion  of  the 
question :  Should  Homer  be  taught  in  the  Pre- 
paratory School?"  Words  dictated  in  his  illness 
in  answer  to  this  request,  give  us  his  ripest  views 
as  a  teacher  of  the  Greek  language  and  literature. 
"Though  there  have  been  important  changes  in 
recent  years,  yet  Greek  is  still  studied  in  the  pre- 
paratory schools  more  for  its  orthographical  forms 
than  for  its  literature.  After  the  forms  have  been 
so  far  ^mastered  as  to  permit,  let  facility  and  ele- 
gance of  translation  be  insisted  on   rather  than 


microscopic  dissection  of  the  words.  This  may 
seem  heresy  to  some  ;  but  it  is  the  resuh  of  long 
experience  and  much  reflection.  What  is  called 
the  Dr.  Taylor  method  of  teaching  I  do  not  be- 
lieve in.  I  was  trained  in  it  most  thoroughly,  and 
for  years,  as  a  teacher,  tried  to  follow  it  with  faith ; 
but  it  was  in  vain.  I  am  sure  it  was  not  the  best 
way.  It  seems  to  me  vastly  more  important  that 
the  academy  boy  should  have  unfolded  to  him  the 
grandeur,  the  pictorial  beauty,  and  the  exquisite 
word-painting  of  Homer  than  that  he  should 
know  all  about  the  dialect  and  have  every  enclitic 
at  his  tongue's  end.  It  is  desirable  to  know  both, 
but  the  first  is  the  more  so.  *  *  And  my  im- 
pression is  that  in  all  but  the  most  advanced  work 
in  Greek,  we  should  study  it  for  its  literature 
rather  than  as  a  branch  of  philology.  A  very 
small  proportion  of  the  graduates  from  our  High 
Schools,  our  Academies,  and  our  Colleges  ever 
become  professional  scholars;  most  of  them  have 
to  devote  their  lives  to  getting  a  living,  and  if  we 
use  up  the  limited  time  allotted  to  this  matchless 
literature  in  examining  it  page  by  page  and  line 
by  line  with  a  microscope,  we  not  only  cause  a 
distaste  for  the  work,  but  give  the  students  so 
little  of  that  which  is  admirable  that  they  emerge 
with  such  a  modicum  of  culture  and  knowledge 
that  they  do  not  appreciate  the  loss  of  the  one, 
and  are  glad  to  forget  the  other." 


22 

In  this  article  he  tells  of  his  own  method  of 
teaching  the  Odyssey ;  of  the  time  ordinarily 
given  to  forms  and  grammar  used  in  putting  the 
Greek  into  the  best  English,  and  in  "  trying  to  as- 
certain why  the  poems  of  Homer  are  so  much  ad- 
mired ; "  of  the  marking  out  of  collateral  reading 
from  Matthew  Arnold,  Symonds,  and  other  En- 
glish writers  on  Greek  literature  ;  of  the  study  of 
the  geography  descriptive  and  physical,  '*  of  cer- 
tain matters  in  archaeology,  especially  everything 
connected  with  art  as  evinced  in  Homer  ;"  of  his 
own  reading  to  the  class  of  ''  striking  scenes  " 
outside  of  their  lessons ;  of  a  formal  debate  on 
the  Homeric  question,  and  the  arousing  of  in- 
terest in  ''  defending  the  authorship  of  the 
poems." 

In  a  public  tribute,  a  recent  graduate  has  told 
how  the  time  of  one  recitation  was  given  to 
the  reading  of  slang  translations,  as  prepared  by 
members  of  the  class  in  Aristophanes  ;  and  he 
adds,  *'I  venture  to  say  we  caught  more  of  the  spirit 
of  Attic  comedy,  in  that  one  hour,  than  we  could 
have  in  weeks  construing  into  the  unnatural 
English  sometimes  insisted  on."  St.  Augustine 
said  of  teaching,  *'  a  golden  key  which  does  not 
fit  is  useless,  a  wooden  key  which  does  is  every- 
thing."    So  Professor  Mather  evidently  thought; 

Broad  himself  in  his  many  sympathies,  he  had 


23 

an  especial  dread  of  narrowness.  He  felt  that 
the  tendency  of  the  age  was  too  well  typified  in 
one  who,  as  Frederic  Robertson  tells  us,  could  see 
nothing  of  interest  in  a  great  Cathedral  town, 
except  the  doors  of  the  houses,  because  the  father, 
who  had  been  a  builder,  had  taught  the  child  to 
observe  only  such  work.  To  Professor  Mather's 
desire  to  provide  an  influence  that  should  help 
counteract  the  selfish  intensity  and  narrow  ab- 
sorption of  business  and  professional  life,  we 
owe  largely  his  lectures  on  art.  In  their  prepa- 
ration he  recognized  that,  as  a  rule,  lecturing  and 
teaching  are  not  the  same  processes.  The  lect- 
urer has  to  do  with  the  class ;  the  teacher,  with  the 
individual.  The  lecturer  contributes  information; 
the  teacher  stimulates  and  trains  the  mind.  So 
that  whatever  may  be  the  place  of  the  lecturer  in 
the  university,  the  great  work  of  the  college  is 
to  be  done  by  the  teacher.  Therefore,  his  lect- 
ures on  art,  as  on  German  history  and  literature, 
are  more  of  the  popular  type  by  which  we  are 
taught  than  of  the  scholastic  form  from  which 
we  may  simply  learn  something.  In  what  he  had 
to  say  there  was  much  of  value  purely  as  instruc- 
tion. But  all  this  would  have  been  in  vain,  if 
pure  and  ennobling  sympathies  had  not  been 
awakened  to  guard  the  soul  against  evil  passions 
and  sordid  influences.     To  make  young  men  in- 


telligent  about  art,  its  principles  and  achieve- 
ments, was  but  a  means  to  an  end.  And  that  end 
was  to  quicken  a  sense  of  the  beautiful,  to  call 
into  life  and  joyful  vigor  emotions,  tastes,  aspi- 
rations, that  would  help  to  refine,  purify,  sweeten, 
and  broaden  all  the  years  to  come. 

Well  has  it  been  said  that  '*  contact  with  an  in- 
spiring and  magnetic  teacher  is  one  of  the  chief 
goods  which  Heaven  bestows  upon  us  in  the 
spring-time  of  life."  How  great  then  is  the  debt 
of  Amherst  College  to  a  teacher  so  enthusiastic 
and  invigorating  as  was  Professor  Mather  for 
more  than  thirty  years  ! 

Nor  is  the  debt  now  unrecognized.  Alumni  of 
all  periods,  not  a  few  from  places  of  high  in- 
fluence, send  such  acknowledgments  as  are  found 
in  the  eloquent  words  of  Professor  Adams  of 
Johns  Hopkins  University: — "  Professor  Mather 
will  always  be  remembered  by  his  students 
as  an  enthusiastic  apostle  of  Greek  thought. 
He  taught  not  the  mere  technique  of  language  or 
of  art,  but  rather  the  appreciation  of  noble  ideals 
of  freedom,  beauty,  truth,  justice,  honor,  and 
manhood, — ideals  at  once  Greek  and  Christian. 
For  him  the  first  sunlight  from  the  East  which 
touched  the  uplifted  spear  of  Athenae  Promachos 
was  the  sunshine  of  righteousness.  Graduates 
of  Amherst  College  who  once  read  with  him  the 


25 

story  of  those  old  wars  with  Persia,  and  who 
heard  his  splendid  English  version  of  the  Greek 
dramatists  of  that  second  heroic  age,  will  never 
lorget  the  glorified  vision  of  Greek  liberty  dawn- 
ing upon  Athens,  and,  from  Athens  and  Flor- 
ence, upon  the  Western  world.  The  classical 
student  whose  range  hitherto  had  been  limited  to 
parsing  and  scanning,  was  taught  to  discover  a 
wider  intellectual  horizon  and  to  perceive  the  true 
relation  of  Greek  liberty  to  modern  life.  Professor 
Mather  saw,  as  clearly  as  did  the  great  poets  and 
teachers  before  him,  that  the  struggle  for  freedom 
and  truth  and  justice  in  the  world  is  by  no  means 
ended ;  that  the  children  of  light  must  continue 
their  conflict  with  material  forces  and  against 
numerical  odds  as  did  the  Greeks  of  old.  But  he 
rejoiced  in  things  won  and  done.  Like  the  runner 
who  brought  good  news  to  Athens  of  victory  at 
Marathon,  Professor  Mather  was  a  herald  of  pre- 
liminary battle  already  fought  by  classical  scholars 
in  America.  He  shared  the  fight ;  he  brought  the 
tidings;  and  like  Pheidippides,  that  hero  whose 
image  in  relief  now  stands  in  the  Art  Gallery  at 
Amherst,  this  messenger  of  Greek  liberty  and 
Greek  culture  gave  up  his  life  before  his  stor)' 
was  fairly  told.  Upon  the  acropolis  of  Amherst 
College  the  Art  Idea  of  Professor  Mather  will 
survive  and  be  his  living  monument. 


26 

"  Sb  is  Pheidippides  happy  forever, — the  noble  strong  man 
Who  could  race  like  a  God,  bear  the  face  of  a  God,  whom 

a  God  loved  so  well. 
He  saw  the  land  saved  he  had  helped  to  save,  and  was 

suffered  to  tell 
Such  tidings,  yet  never  decline,  but  gloriously  as  he  began 
So  to  end  gloriously — once  to  shout,  thereafter  be  mute  : 
*  Athens  is  saved  ! '    Pheidippides  dies  in  the  shout  for  his 
meed." 


Ill 


Y  I  NDIVIDED  as  was  Professor  Mather  in  his 
\^  loyalty  to  teaching,  yet  the  world  at  large 
mourns  him  to-day  as  a  preacher.  Nor  as 
we  have  seen  without  cause.  Says  one  whose 
opinion  is  authoritative  :  ''  It  is  hard  to  think  of  a 
vacant  pulpit  in  his  own  denomination  so  prom- 
ipent  that  he  would  not  have  been  thought 
worthy  of  it  could  he  have  been  obtained." 
Not  analytic  or  speculative,  with  no  attempt 
to  be  profound  or  exhaustive,  avoiding  all  sub- 
tilties  and  abstractions,  he  presented  simple, 
accepted  truths  with  perfect  clearness  and 
winning  force.  Never  dull  for  a  moment,  but  in 
treatment  of  theme  fresh,  vigorous,  and  pictur- 
esque, he  caught  the  attention  with  the  opening 
sentence  and  held  it  to  the  last.  If  his  style  was 
finely  wrought,  the  appearance  of  art  was  lost  in 
its  ease  and  grace.  Nor  was  the  sermon  without 
some  practical  end  in  view.  A  message  for  the 
day  and  hour,  it  was  sent  home  to  the  heart  and 
life  with  a  directness  and  an  earnestness  always 


28 

forcible,  and  often  highly  eloquent.  Without  the 
depth  of  suggestion,  the  height  of  inspiration,  and 
range  of  comprehensiveness,  which  some  demand, 
his  preaching  had  perhaps,  because  of  these  defi- 
ciencies, a  wider  usefulness  and  more  popular 
power. 

He  had  the  physical  basis  and  the  temperament 
of  the  orator.  Writes  one^*  who  knew  him  well, 
"Tides  of  feeling  rolled  over  him  naturally  when 
he  came  to  write  or  speak."  To  this  emotional 
force  were  added  a  voice  clear,  flexible,  expres- 
sive, an  action  peculiarly  animated  and  graceful, 
and  a  delivery  spirited  and  magnetic.  Yet  the 
secret  of  his  power  as  a  preacher  lies  deeper  than 
in  these  things.  "  Behind  the  orator,'*  says  Emer- 
son, "is  the  man;"  and  so  behind  the  preacher  is 
the  Christian.  Of  godly  ancestr)^  and  training,  at 
eight  years  of  age  a  Christian  by  conscious  pur- 
pose, four  years  later  making  public  profession 
of  that  purpose,  his  religious  life  was  from  first 
to  last  wholly  natural.  When  he  came  to  the 
critical  moment  of  his  illness,  and  was  to  face 
an  operation  the  issue  of  which  the  most  dis- 
tinguished surgical  skill  could  not  foresee,  he 
asked  first  to  engage  in  prayer.  And  what  a 
prayer  it  was!  Not  of  nervous  apprehension, 
not  a  plea  for  life ;  but  the  simple,  natural 
expression  of  a  man  accustomed  to  talk  with  God 

*The  Rev.  James  G.  Vose,  D.  D.,  Providence,  R.  I. 


29 

in  all  that  concerned  his  ways.  With  voice  calm 
and  clear  and  manner  perfectly  composed,  he  gave 
thanks  for  the  skill  that  could  relieve  pain ;  asked 
a  blessing  upon  those  who  were  to  exercise  that 
skill;  and  closed  with  only  a  minor  petition  for 
himself.  When  men  come  to  such  places,  and 
unconsciously  reveal  a  faith  so  childlike,  we  know 
that  there  has  been  nothing  assumed  or  formal  in 
their  walk  with  God. 

In  the  last  sermon  which  he  preached,  speaking 
of  Christian  character  he  says  :  "If  we  have  it  all 
ready  for  the  emergencies  of  life,  it  will  be  because 
we  have  accumulated  it  before."  Little  did  he 
think  how  noble  an  illustration  of  this  truth  he 
was  so  soon  to  give.  The  first  sermon  that  I 
heard  Professor  Mather  preach  was  when  I  was 
preparing  for  College.  In  the  sermon  he  told  of 
the  peace  that  is  found  in  Christ,  especially  in  the 
struggles  of  life.  The  sermon  has  never  been 
forgotten;  surely  not  as  I  stood  by  his  open 
grave.  Yet  the  thought  on  that  April  afternoon, 
was  not  so  much  of  the  unbroken  peace  now  to 
be  forever  his;  as  of  the  gentleness  and  serenity 
of  spirit  with  which  in  the  months  of  his  bitter 
conflict,  he  had  emphasized  every  word  of  the 
sermon,  preached  with  such  earnestness,  years 
before. 

**Ah,  how  shall  I  speak  of  Professor  Mather  as  a 


30 

Christian?"  says  the  friend*  who  from  college  days, 
next  to  his  own  family,  had  known  him  in  the 
closest  intimacy.  **  The  sweetest  and  best  note 
of  all  was  struck  here.  In  noway,  in  my  judg- 
ment was  his  influence  more  continuous  and 
healthful.  He  was  an  apostle  of  a  cheerful  Chris- 
tianity. His  very  presence  dissipated  all  the 
vapors  of  a  morbid  self-consciousness.  It  was 
like  a  west  wind  from  the  Delectable  mountains 
— a  tonic  for  all  souls  depressed  by  the  shadows 
of  an  introspective  habit.  He  believed  God, 
took  him  at  his  word,  accepted  his  promises  im- 
pHcitly, — rested  upon  them.  None  had  a  clearer 
conception  of  the  Fatherhood  of  God,  made 
known  through  the  Brotherhood  of  the  Son  of 
Man.  I  doubt  if  his  spiritual  horizon  was  often 
clouded.  It  was  because  of  this  clear  view  of  an 
established  and  unchangeable  relation,  that  he 
could  with  such  calm  and  sweet  and  wonder- 
ful resignation,  lay  down  all  hopes,  all  plans,  his 
consciousness  of  well-equipped  powers  of  useful- 
ness at  their  highest  point — all  without  a  murmur 
or  scarce  a  sigh  at  that  Father's  call ;  call  to  so 
many  of  us  less  clear-sighted,  less  trustful,  how 
mysterious,  how  untimely ! 

His  own  words,  spoken  late  in  his  illness  to  his 
pastor,  when  asked  to  send  some  message  to  the 

*Mr.  Edward  A.  Strong,  Trustee  of  Amherst  College. 


31 
meeting  on  the  Day  of  Prayer  for  Colleges  are 
known  to  many  of  you  ;  but  we  shall  all  be  the 
better  for  hearing  them  again.  **If  I  were  to  say 
anything  to  the  students,  it  would  be  this — in- 
deed I  would  like  to  say  this — that  the  Christian 
life  for  me  has  been  an  endeavor  to  follow  after 
righteousness,  not  in  my  own  strength  but  in  that 
of  my  Heavenly  Father.  I  am  very  conscious  of 
weakness,  failure,  and  sin,  but  I  accept  forgive- 
ness through  Christ  who  is  also  my  example  and 
inspiration." 


IV 


MORE  direct  study  of  Professor  Mather's 
characteristics  turns  our  thought  first 
to  the  strength  of  his  physical  resources. 
Behind  that  cheery  presence  and  sunny,  inspiring 
nature  was,  for  almost  a  lifetime,  unbroken  good 
health.  The  work  that  would  have  soon  crushed 
an  ordinary  constitution,  his  splendid  vitality  and 
great  natural  powers  of  endurance  permitted  him  to 
do  with  enjoyment.  Six  days  of  the  week  often 
doing  double  service  in  helping  some  colleague, 
teaching  art  as  well  as  Greek,  lecturing  in  neigh- 
boring villages,  editing  books,  preparing  sermons 
and  lectures  ;  the  seventh  day  found  him,  most  of 
the  time,  at  some  wearisome  distance  preaching 
with  a  freshness  and  a  vigor  only  to  be  expected 
after  a  long  vacation. 

But  in  aiding  him  bear  so  easily  his  constant 
and  heavy  burdens,  how  well  did  his  mental  gifts 
second  his  physical  powers!  Quick,  clear,  and 
versatile  in  mind,  not  only  did  he  adjust  himself 
readily  to  different  kinds  of  work,  but  he  made 


33 
the  change  serve  as  rest  and  recreation.  No  time 
was  lost  in  mistaking  the  accidental  for  the  es- 
sential. What  should  be  done,  and  what  left  un- 
done, he  seemed  to  know  by  instinct.  No  less 
dexterous  was  he  in  finding  the  surest,  shortest 
way  to  do  the  thing  desirable  to  be  done.  Not 
given  to  broad  generalizations,  his  mind 
moved  in  straight  lines  toward  a  definite  end.  He 
indulged  in  no  super-refinements  of  thought. 
The  vague  and  abstract  he  disliked;  and  aided  by 
his  unusual  power  of  comparison  he  sought  to 
give  all  his  conceptions  substance,  form,  color. 

With  the  philosophic  side  of  the  Greek  mind 
he  was  not  in  sympathy,  yet  few  men  not  of  the 
Greek  race  have  been  more  so  in  the  aesthetic 
element.  The  Greek's  love  of  the  beautiful,  his 
fine  adaptation  of  means  to  ends,  his  nice  sense 
of  proportion  and  power  of  limitation  for  the 
sake  of  proportion,  were  all  Professor  Mather's. 
He  had  also  much  of  the  sprightliness,  fertility, 
and  acuteness  of  the  Greek  mind.  Nor  was  he 
wholly  without  resemblance  to  the  social  side  of 
the  Greek.  In  his  fresh  and  youthful  spirit,  his 
delicate  sensitiveness,  his  ease  and  delight  in  con- 
versation, his  love  of  raillery  and  sportiveness  of 
speech;  and  in  that  peculiarity  of  the  Greek,  as 
one  of  the  ancients  tells  us,  *'  to  conceal  noth- 
ing," he  was  kindred  to  the  people  whose  words 
and  works  were  the  study  of  his  life. 


34 

And  yet,  if  he  were  In  these  characteristics  a 
Greek,  must  we  not  say  of  him,  as  has  been  said 
of  one  of  our  most  noted  men  of  letters — that  he 
was  a  Greek- Yankee  ?  And  what  answer  is 
there  to  the  charge  that  Greek  culture  necessari- 
ly weakens  practical  force  better  than  the  memory 
of  his  life,  one  in  spirit  as  It  was  with  the  art  and 
literature  of  ancient  Greece,  and  yet  with  an  en- 
terprise, a  sagacity,  an  energy,  an  executive  skill, 
that  in  the  business  world  of  to-day  would  have 
made  him  one  of  its  kings  ? 

But  this  practical  efficiency  was  not  merely  an 
intellectual  product.  Moral  traits  and  habits  gave 
largely  to  its  power.  Not  only  did  he  know  how 
to  do  things,  but  he  did  them  as  a  man  who  saw 
in  them  a  duty.  Thus,  he  was  prompt,  industrious, 
faithful.  Punctual  to  every  appointment,  he  was 
also  Impatient  at  any  delay  in  beginning  a  good 
work.  *'Why  wait,  why  not  now?"  was  his  fre- 
quent question  when  any  reform  or  improvement 
was  suggested. 

Of  his  Industry  no  eulogy  could  be  so  eloquent 
as  the  simple  statement  of  the  work  which 
he  did.  But  a  single  example  in  one  line  of 
labor  must  suffice.  His  lectures  on  Sculpture 
comprise  three  closely  written  volumes,  or  469 
pages  of  large  letter-paper  size ;  those  on  Greek 
life,  three  volumes,  or  351  pages  ;  and  those  more 


35 
recently  prepared  in  extending  the  course,  two 
volumes,  or  305  pages.  To  accompany  these  lect- 
ures he  had  carefully  planned  or  collected  illus- 
trations, in  the  way  of  drawings  and  photo- 
graphs, to  a  number  that  goes  high  into 
the  hundreds.  No  mention  is  made  of  the 
time  and  effort  given  to  the  getting  of  funds 
and  the  gathering  of  the  general  Art  Collection, 
nor  of  additional  hours  of  instruction,  and  the  large 
and  constantly  increasing  correspondence  from  all 
parts  of  the  country  incited  by  the  reputation  of 
the  department,  other  than  to  say  that  in  itself  it 
was  one  man's  full  measure  of  work. 

As  faithful  as  he  was  industrious,  new  occupa- 
tions displaced  no  old  and  regular  duty.  Atten- 
tion to  Greek  art,  therefore,  did  not  with  him 
mean  neglect  of  Greek  literature.  In  the  same 
period  that  the  Art  Gallery  is  growing  under  his 
hands,  he  is  editing  his  selections  of  Herodotus,and 
Thucydides,  and  preparing  his  edition  of  Sopho- 
cles' Electra,  and  ^schylus'  "Prometheus  Bound," 
— scholarly  works  now  in  wide  and  successful 
use.  And  so  his  full  devotion  to  teaching 
never  suffered  by  his  success  in  preaching.  From 
the  student  in  Greek  he  expected  a  preparation 
of  two  hours  for  each  exercise.  The  same  time 
for  preparation  in  some  form  he  always  exacted 
of  himself.     Do  we  not  here  discover  one  source 


36 

of  that  interest  and  stimulus,  of  which  every 
alumnus  writes  who  recalls  his  recitations  ? 

This  same  spirit  of  faithfulness  appeared  in 
him  as  the  college  officer.  A  man  peculiarly  sen- 
sitive to  any  manifestation  of  dislike,  to  whom  the 
good  will  of  others  was  very  dear,  and  who  more 
than  most  teachers  valued  a  student's  affection  ; 
he  was  always  willing  to  be  responsible  for  an  un- 
popular course  of  action  when  convinced  that  the 
best  interests  of  the  college  so  demanded. 

He  was  faithful  as  a  citizen.  Not  only  was  he 
deeply  interested  in  whatever  was  for  Amherst's 
prosperity  and  attractiveness,  but  how  promptly 
and  liberally  he  responded  to  calls  for  help  out- 
side of  his  own  community.  How  he  rode  over 
these  hills  to  give  the  best  that  he  had  in  lecture 
or  sermon,  irrespective  of  the  measure  of  compen- 
sation, often  for  none  at  all. 

It  was  this  same  faithfulness  that  in  the  winter 
months  of  his  illness,  made  him  wish  to  hear  at 
his  house  his  class  in  Greek.  Not  to  be  able  to 
meet  this  class  was  to  him  a  sad  disappointment. 
All  larger  plans  for  the  future  had  been  laid  upon 
the  altar.  Now  one  hope  remained, — the  hope  to 
teach  to  the  end,  or  as  he  said,  **to  die 
in  the  harness."  And,  may  we  not  add 
that  his  wish  was  granted.  Not  as  his  faith- 
ful   spirit    had    planned,    but    as    God    willed. 


Z7 
For  as  the  students  waited,  day  by  day,  for  a 
message  from  his  sick  room  only  to  hear  with  each 
report,  how  the  beloved  teacher  was  translating 
his  unspeakable  trial  and  struggle  into  the  might 
of  the  loyal,  trustful  spirit,  a  lesson  was  taught 
that  the  dullest  nature  among  us  could  not  fail  to 
reverence.  And  as  God  shall  call  any  of  us,  in 
days  to  come,  to  serve  as  we  ''stand  and  wait"  in 
some  great  sorrow  of  soul  or  pain  of  body,  what 
a  rallying  to  manly  obedience,  to  heroic  endur- 
ance, will  there  be  in  the  remembrance  of  his 
example. 

A  personal  quality  that  especially  distinguished 
Professor  Mather  was  his  naturalness.  How  this 
was  a  characteristic  of  his  religious  life,  we  have 
seen.  It  was  the  same  in  all  relations.  Open  as 
the  day  in  speech  and  action,  he  expressed  the 
feelings  of  the  moment.  The  thought  as  it  came 
to  him,  you  had  without  reserve.  Man  of  the 
world  as  he  was  in  many  ways,  he  was  at  heart  a 
child.  Sagacious,  practical  he  was  also  impul- 
sive, demonstrative.  This  made  his  nature  appar- 
ently complex,  and  not  always  understood.  One 
with  this  characteristic  may  now  and  then  seem 
inconsistent.  To  some  it  will  also  be  thought  to 
indicate  lack  of  power ;  for  the  stream  is  so  clear 
that  the  unpractised  eye  does  not  recognize  its 
depth.     Nor  did  this  element  in  Professor  Mather 


38 

permit  him  always  to  understand  others,  even 
some  of  his  truest  friends.  A  reticence  of  speech 
upon  certain  subjects,  a  silence  about  the  deeper 
emotions  which  some  sacredly  observe,  he  could 
not  always  rightly  interpret.  Neither  had  he  at 
all  times  the  poise  that  marks  natures  less  spon- 
taneous. But  how  immeasurable  would  have  been 
the  loss  had  he  sacrificed  this  quality;  for  to  this 
he  owed  largely  his  brightness,  freshness,  ardor, 
enthusiasm.  This  made  him  socially  so  enjoy- 
able. This  enlivened  his  home  with  the  spirit  of 
banter  and  playfulness ;  and  made  his  intercourse 
with  his  children  so  beautiful,  resembling  that  of  a 
brother  more  than  that  of  a  parent.  This  gave  him 
the  hearty  appreciation  and  its  frank  expression, 
that  caused  all  companions  to  remember 
him  as  a  delightful  traveller.  So  uncon- 
scious was  he  in  his  enthusiasm  in  recogniz- 
ing places  of  classic  interest,  when  approaching 
Greece  on  his  last  visit,  that  before  he  knew  it  he 
had  drawn  to  him  almost  every  English-speaking 
tourist  on  the  boat.  This  it  was  that  gave  him 
easy  contact  with  so  many  sides  of  life,  and  has 
left  for  him  wherever  he  has  been,  even  only  for 
a  day,  some  friend  or  admirer;  for  it  was  the  one 
touch  "that  makes  the  whole  world  kin."  But  in 
his  deeper  life,  as  we  have  seen,  it  was  far  more 
than  this      It  was  that   ''one  touch  of  nature" 


39 

sanctified  by  the  spirit  of  Him  who  said  of  the 
Httle  child,  ''of  such  is  the  Kingdom  of  God." 

The  personal  quality,  however,  that  should 
most  claim  our  attention  was  his  unselfishness. 
Speaking  of  a  man's  unselfishness  one  may  be 
easily  misunderstood.  Selfishness  is  so  obtrusive 
as  rarely  to  escape  full  recognition.  Unselfishness 
is  more  like  a  river  flowing  underneath  the  sur- 
face, but  here  and  there  coming  to  the  light  for 
the  cheer  and  invigoration  of  all  around  it. 
Broadly  speaking,  the  two  elements  are  found  in 
every  man.  To  say,  therefore,  whether  a  life  is 
selfish  or  unselfish,  is  to  say  which  element  pre- 
dominates. The  review  thus  far  made  of  Profes- 
sor Mather's  life,  leaves  no  question  on  which  side 
it  is  to  be  placed.  But  the  full  measure  of  his 
unselfishness,  we  may  not  so  readily  see.  The 
relations  in  which  it  was  revealed  in  all  its  sweet- 
ness and  tenderness  are  too  sacred  for  our  theme. 
The  home  life  where  the  first  thought  was  always 
for  every  one  else  and  never  for  himself,  could 
tell  us;  but  here  we  must  not  enter.  Friendships 
rivaling  brotherly  affection,  with  natures  so  rare 
and  fine  that,  like  the  spear  of  Ithuriel,  they  would 
at  first  touch  have  laid  bare  the  meaner,  baser  life 
whose  central  thought  is  self,  could  tell  us  how 
unselfish  was  his  spirit;  but  such  voices  are  not 
for  our  ears  to-day.     The  young  men  who  have 


40 

made  their  way  into  life  through  his  helpful 
influence,  who  have  felt  the  clasp  of  his  generous 
hand  in  time  of  pressing  want,  to  whom  if  he 
gave  a  garment  it  was  one  as  good  as  he  would 
buy  for  himself,  could  tell  us;  but  they  would 
guard  his  memory  as  delicately  as  he  met  their 
need. 

But  it  has  been  said  that  two  periods  of  life 
uncover  the  inner  nature,  however  cleverly  the 
real  life  has  been  concealed  before  ;  one,  extreme 
old  age  ;  the  other,  severe  illness  of  long  du- 
ration. And  what  a  revelation  of  Professor  Math- 
er's spirit  comes  to  us  from  such  an  illness,  as  it 
tells  of  him,  sending  out  from  that  chamber  his 
thought  and  interest  wherever  there  was  the  least 
possible  claim  upon  his  sympathy ;  as  eager  to  know 
the  result  of  the  last  town-meeting  as  when  in 
health,  and  with  years  of  life  apparently  before  him; 
keeping  himself  informed  of  everything  that  con- 
cerned the  college  ;  urging  those  dear  to  him  not 
to  exclude  themselves  from  what  was  bright  and 
pleasant  outside  the  sick  room  ;  grateful  for  every 
attention  from  friends,  and  never  forgetting  in  the 
most  excruciating  pain,  the  **  thank  you  "  for  the 
slightest  service  of  the  attendant;  and  when 
conscious  of  the  beginning  of  the  end,  putting 
aside  all  plans  of  life,  and  contenting  himself  with 
the  remembrance,  as  he  said,  '*of  the  things  that 
he  had  tried  to  do  that  make  for  righteousness." 


41 
And  yet  this  was  only  another  revelation  of  the 
same  unselfish  spirit  that  had  shown  itself  in  all 
the  years  of  his  devotion  to  the  college.  Of  this 
spirit  can  be  mentioned  no  more  signal  proof 
than  his  generous  estimate  of  his  associates.  No 
man  serving  the  college  as  a  means  of  personal 
ambition,  and  particularly  a  man  of  the  open,  im- 
pulsive nature  of  Professor  Mather,  could  train 
himself  to  speak  of  the  good  work  and  personal 
qualities  of  his  colleagues  so  warmly  and  so  freely 
as  did  he  whenever  occasion  permitted.  How  hearty 
was  his  admiration  of  the  noble  wisdom  and  rare 
power  that  guide  this  institution  ;  how  appreci- 
ative was  he  of  the  ripe  and  earnest  scholarship 
that  presides  over  the  department  of  a  sister  lan- 
guage; how  ready  his  recognition  of  the  calm 
strength  of  another  colleague,  the  warm  heart  and 
rich  usefulness  of  another;  and  so  on,  leaving  no 
quality,  no  effort,  no  sign  of  promise,  that  looked 
toward  Amherst's  advancement  in  any  direction, 
without  his  enthusiastic  commendation.  Never 
jealous  or  envious,  he  rejoiced  in  every  forward 
step  taken  by  any  other  department.  Indeed, 
the  quickest  way  to  his  esteem  was  to  do  some- 
thing helpful  to  the  college.  "The  victory  of 
Miltiades,"  perhaps  * 'would  not  suffer  him  to  sleep." 
But  if  the  stimulus  of  another's  activity  bent 
him  with  a  new  energy  to  his  work,  it  was  not  to 


42 

surpass  an  associate  but  to  make  his  department 
worthier  of  the  college. 

Upon  the  quantity  or  quality  of  his  work  outside 
of  his  department,  we  need  not  dwell.  What  we 
would  emphasize  was  the  disinterestedness  of  his 
services.  ''Of  Professor  Mather's  whole-souled 
devotion  to  the  college,"  writes  one,  who  not  only 
knew  his  heart  as  an  open  book  but  had  wide, 
practical  knowledge  of  what  he  did,  *'it  was  his 
passion.  Remember,  most  of  his  life  was  spent 
in  Amherst,  even  a  large  part  of  his  boyhood, 
either  there  or  in  its  immediate  vicinity.  He 
grew  up,  familiar  with  the  traditions  of  self-sacri- 
ficing lives  given  to  the  institution.  He  saw  such 
lives  lived  every  day.  He  drank  in  the  spirit  in 
the  very  air.  The  last  time  I  was  with  Professor 
Mather  for  free  and  unrestrained  converse,  in 
September,  1889,  he  told  me,  that,  next  to  his 
own  family  and  kindred,  his  thought  and  love 
were  for  Amherst  College.  He  was,  even  then, 
on  an  errand  of  business  for  the  college,  in  the 
interests  of  a  department  not  his  own,  and  his 
alert  mind  was  full  of  plans  for  advancing  the 
scheme  in  hand.  The  Greek  and  the  Art  Depart- 
ment and  his  power  to  serve  in  outside  ways, 
constituted  his  life's  joy,  and  were  enough  for 
him."  In  words  as  unquestionable,  the  President 
and  Treasurer  of  the  college  whom  he  consulted 


43 
in  his  various  efforts,  testify  of  the  pure,  disinter- 
ested spirit  which  always  marked  his  labors.  Said 
a  prominent  member  of  the  Board  of  Trustees  of 
another  college,  looking  for  a  President,  a  few 
years  ago:  *'In  my  opinion  Professor  Mather  is 
the  man  who,  in  every  way,  is  best  qualified  for 
the  position.  I  know  of  but  one  objection.  He 
so  loves  Amherst  College  that  would  he  even 
consent  to  come  to  us,  I  am  afraid  his  heart  would 
not  keep  him  company." 

And  yet  can  we  speak  more  in  his  spirit 
than  when  we  ask,  what  in  turn  was  his  debt  to  the 
college?  If  no  greater  blessing  can  come  to  a 
man  than  time  and  place  to  do  noble  things,  then 
was  Amherst  College  a  blessing  to  Professor 
Mather.  It  took  him  out  of  himself,  and  made 
all  that  he  could  do,  and  all  that  he  could  become, 
a  gain  for  larger  interests  than  individual  success. 
It  was  an  open  door  to  unselfish  service.  Again, 
it  unified  his  life.  Here  all  his  activities  found  a 
common  centre.  It  spurred  him  to  the  highest 
attainments,  the  richest  culture,  the  noblest  man- 
hood; and  then  gave  him  the  opportunity  for  conse- 
crated use  of  all  that  he  had  struggled  for  and 
won.  It  took  his  many  brilliant  gifts  that  with  a 
selfish  aim  would  have  gone  out  in  darkness,  like 
a  whirl  of  sparks,  and  centred  them  all  in  that 
bright,  unquenchable  flame  whose  mission  is,  as 
its  legend  tells  us,  "  to  enlighten  the  lands." 


44 

We  have   now   to    speak    of    a   characteristic 
that  all    may  not    recognize.     Professor  Mather 
was  so  energetic  in   spirit,  so  earnest  and  cour- 
ageous'in  the  advocacy  of  what  he  conceived  to  be 
right,  that  he  was  perhaps  thought  to  have  large 
confidence  in  himself.     But  not  often  did  he  look 
upon  the  results  of  his  work  with  favor.     Search- 
ing as  was  his  eye  for  the  defects  of  a  student's 
performance,  he  was  more   exacting  in  judging 
the  faults  of  his  own.     His  aim  was  so  high  that 
he  could   not  easily  believe  that  he  had  reached 
the  mark.     Thus,  he  found  the  pleasant  assurance 
of  others  grateful  and  helpful.     In  the  pulpit  so 
spontaneous  and  general  was  the  response,  that 
he  felt  here  a  confidence  not  habitual  in  the  class- 
room.    Nor  is    this   ground  for  criticism.     Had 
mere  technical  accuracy,  or  even  large  scholarship 
of  visible  measurement,  been  his  object,  it  would 
not  have  been  so  dififtcult  to  assure  him  of  the  re- 
sult. But  when  a  teacher  has  for  his  aim  what  Pro- 
fessor Mather  said  had  been  his,  "  manhood,  gen- 
uineness, breadth  and  variety  of  character,  sweet 
and  tender  sympathies,"  he  cannot  well  have  the 
certainty  of  results  that  are  measured  by  the  per- 
centage of  examination  papers. 

A  friend  writes  of  him  as  ''sangulnely  earnest." 
Yes,  he  was  sanguinely  earnest,  but  it  was  in  the 
motive  of  his  work  that  his  earnestness  and  hope 


45 
had  their  spring  and  force.  Once,  when  evident- 
ly speaking  from  the  depths  of  his  heart,  while 
forced  to  consider  a  call  to  another  field  of  work, 
he  said  :  ''  Could  I  believe  it  possible  for  me  to 
do  for  these  boys  what  I  wish  to  do,  my  thoughts 
would  not  be  turned  from  Amherst,  for  a  moment; 
but  I  do  not  seem  able  to  do  it."  Yet  the  next 
day,  and  every  day  as  long  as  he  taught,  he  was 
striving  toward  his  goal  as  earnestly  as  though  he 
had  never  questioned  reaching  it.  Among  the 
human  compensations  of  his  long  illness  were 
the  touching  assurances,  that,  in  face  of  his 
doubts,  he  had  done  largely  what  he  supremely 
wished  to  do.  Here  a  letter  from  one  now  a  power 
in  the  world,  telling  of  what  an  inspiration  this 
teacher  had  been  to  him ;  here  another,  recalling 
little  kindnesses  of  more  than  a  score  of  years 
ago  ;  here  another,  recognizing  the  moulding  in- 
fluence of  the  Greek  class-room  that  had  been 
felt  all  through  life.  What  a  ray  of  cheer,  letters 
and  words  like  these  must  have  sent  into  the  dark 
valley  through  which  he  was  passing.  It  was  as 
a  promise  of  the  full  reward  of  the  eternal  day  so 
soon  to  break  upon  his  vision. 


'77  ND  now,  as  we  near  the   close   of  his  life, 
Jl      the  impression  that  it  was  a  favored  life 
qJ  deepens  !       Favored    it     certainly     was 

in  its  natural  gifts  of  health  and  vigor;  in 
a  happy,  enthusiastic  temperament;  in  a  mind 
brilliant  and  versatile;  in  fine  and  apprecia- 
tive tastes,  wide  sympathies,  and  charm  of 
social  power;  and  best  of  all  in  an  inherited 
moral  force  and  religious  spirit.  Favored 
it  also  was  in  parentage,  in  the  home  of  his  child- 
hood, in  the  wise  hand  and  strong  mind  that 
shaped  his  youthful  education ;  in  the  later  train- 
ing of  Williston  and  Amherst,  with  opportunities 
for  travel  and  foreign  study ;  in  finding  his  life- 
work  in  the  glow  and  strength  of  early  manhood  ; 
in  the  stimulus  which  that  life-work  gave  to  every 
aptitude,  to  the  beneficent  use  of  his  varied 
powers,  and  to  the  full  enlistment  of  his  heart  in 
its  service ;  in  his  extended  circle  of  admiring 
acquaintance,  and  choicer  group  of  devoted 
friends;  in   his  beautiful    home    and    those   who 


47 
made  it  more  than  all  the  rest  of  the  world  to 
him;  in  his  increasing  usefulness  and  growing 
honors  with  every  year.  And,  twelve  months 
ago,  as  with  ripened  powers  enriched  through 
recent  travel,  study,  and  leisure,  he  was  again 
laboring  with  us,  what  new  and  larger  chapters 
telling  of  far  more  valuable  work  and  wider  range 
of  activities,  promised  still  to  be  added. 

Yet  because  the  sequel  is  not  as  we  had  planned 
for  him,  shall  we  say  that  the  life  was  no  longer 
favored  ?  It  is  not  for  us  to  interpret  the  myster- 
ies of  God.  Why  these  disappointments,  why  this 
summons  to  face  for  months  with  open  eye  the 
inevitable  end,  why  now  the  call  hence  when 
never  before  so  largely  ready  for  consecrated  ser- 
vice, is  not  for  us  to  say.  But  neither  is  it  for  us 
to  forget  that  the  seeming  blow  which  staggered 
us  even  as  we  only  saw  it  fall  upon  him,  was  one 
to  which  he  bowed  as  to  a  blessing.  During  his 
illness,  he  was  often  heard  saying  slowly  and 
solemnly,  **Lord,  make  me  to  know  mine  end, 
and  the  measure  of  my  days,  what  it  is,  that  I 
may  know  how  frail  I  am  ;"  at  times,  adding  the 
opening  verses  of  the  first  Psalm.  And  as  we 
think  of  the  description  of  the  godly  man  :  ''And 
he  shall  be  like  a  tree  planted  by  the  rivers  of 
water,  that  bringeth  forth  his  fruit  in  his  season  ; 
his  leaf  also  shall  not  wither,  and  whatsoever  he 


48 

doeth  shall  prosper,"  may  we  not  imagine  that  could 
our  friend  speak  to  us,  it  would  be  to  say,  "pause 
not  at  twelve  months  ago,  but  write,  mine  was 
through  the  grace  of  God  a  favored  life  to  the 
very  end?"  Surely  we  must  so  write,  unless  we 
thrust  our  own  doubt  and  disappointment  into 
the  place  of  his  resignation  and  faith.  For  with 
a  spirit  born  of  God,  this  patient  sufferer  took 
what  were  to  us  only  blighted  hopes,  painful 
struggle,  and  weariness  unutterable,  and  trans- 
formed them  into  jewels  for  his  crown  of  glory. 
And  so  speaking  in  this  same  spirit  in  which  for 
months  he  lived,  he  would  now  tell  us,  that  the 
life  that  in  its  ending  seemed  to  us  like  a  broken 
pillar,  an  unroofed  house,  a  ship  going  down  in 
mid-sea,  had  in  it  no  disaster,  nothing  of  incom- 
pleteness, but  an  order,  a  meaning,  a  beauty, 
that  were  divinely  perfect. 


'    OP  THB 


VBRSIT 


f   iS 


-^fhm''-^ 


Frink:,  H.A. 
— Addresb*  * 


tUather, 


.8 
J9- 


^C  04726 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


